Later that day, Mary breezed into the throne room dressed in her finest garments of silk and lace. Her hair was curled and pinned up, revealing her long neck and pink cleavage. The gown she wore glimmered purple and gold with precious stones lining the corset. A golden crown rested beautifully in her hair amongst strands of auburn.

Mary was radiant.

As she glided across gilded marble, noblemen and women stopped and stared; their mouths agape with wonder. Mary's appearance demanded to be seen, to be admired. Both Greer and Kenna, whom were trailing their queen, while dressed finely, were nothing in comparison. All three women, together, would have made Aphrodite, and other Greek goddesses, jealous.

Today was the day scheduled for the arrival of the English. Members of both English Parliament and Queen Elizabeth's privy were to be present. Never had there been this many Sassenach in the presence of French nobility before. Mary's mother had used the term often. Sassenach referred to the Anglo Saxons, the first peoples to civil the nomadic islands where the Welsh, Scots and English now reside.

Mary would be lying to herself if she said she was not nervous. Her palms were clammy and sweat dotted her brow. Her ladies gave her confidence, however, and bequeathed strength where strength did not exist.

The guards had just opened the large wooden doors and Mary was immediately overwhelmed by the mass of people. All colors of silk and other fabrics danced across the room. It made Mary's eyes dizzy with wonder. The Court's steward quickly drew out his trumpet and announced their arrival.

The throne room silenced; eyes were drawn to Mary and her ladies.

The young Queen scanned the room and the first person she saw was Sebastian. He was standing to the right of her throne, waiting for her. Mary's heart started to beat faster. Bash was gazing at her with wide eyes, taking in her beauty. He too was dressed richly, in furs and expensive leathers. His hair, of course, was mused and tousled, resisting complete elegance.

Greer nudged her forwards and Mary was startled out of her reverie.

She stumbled, but quickly regained her balance and walked onwards. The nobility parted as she went. Men dropped to one knee and women curtsied. Whispers floated past her as she went. Whispers she could not perceive.

Mary reached her throne, swept her gown out from behind, and sat.

The room waited for her to speak.

"Please, Lords and Ladies, continue your conversations. You make it appear as if I am some sort of reaper. Catherine de Medici will be here shortly." Mary said, teasing the crowd. They snickered collectively, bringing a smile to Mary's face. The room quickly filled with voices once more.

"Who knew the Queen could jest?" Bash whispered, his voice teasing.

Mary turned her head in his direction.

"Who knew the Master of Horse and Hunt could dress appropriately." she shot back.

"My Queen I am wounded by your statement, truly." He replied, laying a hand to his chest in faux distress.

Mary rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the crowd. One could tell the difference between a Frenchmen and Englishmen. Their divergence was evident in their attire. Their gestures, posture and mannerisms were all a defining characteristic. Many Sassenach were present, more than Mary had counted upon. In fact, over these past few weeks, she had forgotten that Queen Elizabeth had sent them. For what purpose Mary did not remember.

"You look magnificent, Mary." Bash uttered, his voice low and barely audible, interrupting her thoughts.

For a brief moment she said nothing. His words had caught her off-guard.

"You know I do not enjoy all this flattery." Mary responded, and then added, "Thank you."

"Yes, but I do know your passion for people. They respect you." Bash said, leaning down, his breath close to her ear. Mary looked to the crowd to see if anyone was watching.

"I hope so. I hope that they maintain it, even if Francis does not return." Mary started, "I hope –"

Catherine entered the room, cutting Mary off.

Once more, the room was thrown into silence. Only this time, apprehension hung in the air. They announced Catherine's arrival, she strode towards her gilded throne, sat, and stared at the Sassenach with disgust glinting in her eyes. Her elaborate red gown, a gown Mary had never seen before, spilled out across the chair. While beautiful, the dress made the French Queen appear even more menacing.

"Alright, let us get done with this." Catherine muttered, more to herself then Mary.

Catherine greeted them, presenting them with an eloquent speech filled with false pleasantries and warm welcomes. The English did not know this of course. They did not know Catherine like Mary did. Afterwards, the Scottish Queen granted a few choice words and civilities.

The whole ordeal was rather short. There would be a longer meeting between the more important members of the party later. The big announcement, however, was that there was to be a welcoming ball that night. A smile spread across Mary's lips. She looked to Greer and Kenna who were grinning just the same.

The throne room cleared within minutes and only a few people stayed behind. Mary rose from her chair and was about to leave when a figure approached her. Before she even saw who it was her heart began to beat uncontrollably. She looked over her shoulder, noticing Greer, Kenna and Bash all standing behind her. Sebastian had gone pale. Mary turned her head back gazed at the man standing before her.

Her heart skipped a beat. He was clearly of noble birth and he was incredibly handsome. His strong jaw and broad shoulders, his black hair and stubble, dark blue eyes that pierced her own, all made him look very English.

He bestowed a deep bow.

"Your Majesty."

He rose and for a brief moment gazed over her shoulder.

"What is your name?" Mary asked.

"Condé de Bourbon, English Parliament." he replied, turning his attention back towards the Queen.

"A very French name." Mary stated, noting his strong English accent.

"Yes, well my linage is in France. I traveled to England when I was just a boy and became involved in politics." he said.

Mary studied his features and contemplated the story that lay beneath. She could never trust an Englishman, she never would. However, this man appeared genuine enough.

"Will you be attending the ball tonight Condé?" she prodded.

"I would not wish to miss your beauty, your Majesty." he gave another bow. Mary blushed uncontrollably; a blush Mary was taught should always be concealed.

"Very good, I would love to hear more about your French linage."

"It would be my pleasure." Condé whispered and kissed her fingers. The word pleasure, from his mouth, made her pink.

Suddenly, a dark mist appeared at the edge of her vision. A mist she had seen before. As Condé departed with his countrymen, the spirit came forwards. Mary was frozen in place and the world stopped spinning. Its eyes glowed red with hate. Mary could hear Geer and Kenna calling her name, but she could do nothing about it.

My little Queen, the spirit hissed, Lust is dextral. Lust is primal. I have been on this earth a long while. Evil lurks within a mile.